


Tasty Seduction

by ManuelMantastic



Category: Philadelphia Flyers (Hockey), ampm (Chain Store)
Genre: Food Porn, Friday Night Fanfiction - Freeform, Gary Busey - Freeform, M/M, Nonsensical Plot, Other, crackfic, i don't even know why i wrote this, weird alien sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17627960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManuelMantastic/pseuds/ManuelMantastic
Summary: Gritty goes to the ampm to try to satisfy his hunger. Little did he know that he was hungering for more than just food.





	Tasty Seduction

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Nothing was hotter to Gritty than sexual consent](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/453911) by Friday Night Fanfiction. 



> Dedicated to Logan, who will hopefully shut up about Gritty and Toomgis after we are done reading this story.

Gritty was hungry.

In between his many hours spent in front of the boudoir camera, his duties in Washington DC, his autograph sessions with mile-long lines of adoring fans, and his side job as a marriage counselor, Gritty usually left little time for himself to take care of the essentials. Even omnipresent demigods needed time to sleep and eat, if for no other reason than to slay dream demons and taste the myriad ambrosias the world has to offer. This time, though, that hunger went deeper than mere sustenance.

Gritty wiped the sweat from his loins, took off his silk nightie, put on his usual jersey and tossed a balled-up $250 tip at the photographer. Those pictures would turn out great for the 2019 Gritty Seduction calendar. All of the proceeds of sales were going directly to the orphans of hockey-related deaths. 

He went outside the photo studio, “Innuendo in 35mm”, and decided that instead of instantly teleporting, or even flying, he would get in his 2019 Ferrari LaFerrari to get some food. Surely regular food would help him figure out what he was actually craving. Gritty wouldn’t have fit in a regular car. It was a special Ferrari though, because it was shaped like gritty. He gave the designers special directions about how his fur should be fashioned out of lightweight polycarbonate and as a result the car broke the nurburgring world record. It was just collecting dust right now at a parking garage down the block so he might as well give it some miles. He walked to the garage, scanned his VIP pass, gave a friendly high-five to the guard working the gate, and got in his car.

It wasn't far to the local ampm. As the street signs passed and his radio blared the latest scores from the NHL, Gritty couldn’t help but let his mind wander as to how complete his life was. He had everything he could possibly want and then some. So why did he feel like something was missing? It couldn’t be fame. He was the most searched term on Google for the past six months straight. He didn’t need money. He was beyond money. Men, women, basically everyone swooned for him at first glance into his big, empty, soulless eyes. They could see past the void that Gritty was more attractive and loving than Shrek, dog mom, Stoya, and Justin Trudeau combined. Gritty felt like a jelly donut without the jelly, a hentai flash game without the moneyshot, tits without nipples, or a Doctor Who episode without the Doctor Who theme.

Then it struck him. No matter how many people had glanced his way and immediately became overwhelmed by erotic desires and fantasies, he had never looked at anyone else that way. He had never found a Bert to his Ernie. A Luigi to his Mario. A ramen to his lemonade. Maybe the universe just didn’t have someone to equal him, or even if it did, maybe they weren’t his compliment. He felt like a call to charge without an audience to yell the word “charge”. It was a depth of loneliness he hadn’t thought he could experience.

Before he could finish his thoughts, he arrived at the ampm, pulling the parking brake at 70mph and doing a sick Ace Ventura-style parallel parking job right in front of the store. Gritty had a lot of practice and made sure not to take up any space in the handicap spots because he was respectful of other people's disabilities like that. He opened the car doors, which were gulwing and made a sweet whooshing noise as dry-ice fog boiled over into the parking lot. He took a selfie for later.  
The automatic doors to the ampm opened as a friendly *ding* sounded, signifying Gritty's grand entrance to this bastion of snacking heaven. Gritty took off his sick aviator sunglasses which he sometimes wore to further scrutinize the many varieties of caloric goodness now at his fingertips. He sauntered over to the donut area and started to select the most delicious assortment of refined sugars known to man.

As he was picking his deep-fried rings of glucose divinity, Gritty's ESP started to notify him of an incoming presence. It was very large, and very powerful, but not malicious. If anything it felt...warm, and inviting. It was similar in strength to his own but exuded a sense of calm and peace that Gritty, through his own tumultuous adventures in life, rarely ever experienced. He was drawn to it, curious as to who or what could possibly be registering such a large blip on his radar.

Suddenly, the presence disappeared. Then, before he could react, Gritty felt a warm breath on the back of his long, slender neck. Gritty turned around and was almost face to face with the most delicious looking smile he had ever seen. Adoring a most delectable amalgamation of discarded pork parts were a pair of rosy cheeks filled with chocolate chips, still warm from the ethereal oven. A magnificent beard made entirely out of the cheesiest of cheese puffs drew Gritty's eyes away from the adonis' dreamy hazel eyes. Yes, this exemplar of anthropomorphic cuisine was what was setting off Gritty's internal sensors. The stranger smiled, and his breath smelled like a deli bar.

"Toomgis can help with food. Mmmmmmm." The food-figure uttered in its deep baritone voice.

Gritty needed a moment to gather himself. His fur-covered loins had been aroused by the intrigue of this incredible being that, by all known science, shouldn't exist. Life wasn't meant to hold this much beauty. Gritty held back a tear as he mustered up confidence and courage from the emotional wells he hadn't needed to touch in years. Life had been so easy and predictable for him that it was now difficult to get back on solid mental standing after having his mind blown by "Toomgis" awesomeness.

Gritty began to reach into his groin area to massage his own meat log while staring droolingly at Toomgis' burger nose. It looked and smelled delicious. He was still trying to find his bearing when, without realizing what he was doing, he leaned in and licked Toomgis' olefactory canals. The walking snack food nutrition pyramid was taken aback momentarily by this display of affection, but recovered quickly and smiled the most genuine smile Gritty had ever seen besides looking at his own reflection.

Gritty had to think fast. He had left his writing pad in the car and didn’t want to presume that this scrumptious vision would be okay with accepting Gritty’s telepathic communications just yet. He was on equal footing here, and as always, Gritty wanted to be respectful, regardless of whether or not he had a massive raging hard-on for them. As soon as the thought struck him, Gritty began to gather and arrange snack items, overlaying them in such a way as to have their names, logos, and descriptions speak to the desires in his heart. After a few seconds, the following message appeared:

“Do|Yo|u|Wa|n|T|To|C|O|me|b|ac|K|To|M|Y||Pl|a|C|E|”

After his assemblage was displayed, Gritty did something he nearly never did: he got down on his knees. He held out a package of Hostess sugar-frosted miniature doughnuts, as if to imply a “pretty please with sugar on top” to his new acquaintance. He wasn’t 100% sure, but he was, like, 99% sure that this might just be what he was looking for (the being in front of him, not the Hostess snack, but that would be a nice bonus).  
Toomgis didn’t even hesitate. His smile opened even wider, and he nodded slowly before he spoke. “Yes, I would love that. Let us gather some tasty morsels first, and then we can depart to get to know one another better. I have a feeling that tonight is going to be most memorable.”

Toomgis caressed Gritty’s furry hand as he lifted him from the kneeling position. For a brief moment, they just stared at each other, the brief pause of the motion of the world akin to yanking a NES cartridge from a powered on system, except without the glitchy results. A few breaths later and the opening notes from Toto’s Africa came on over the ampm’s sound system. As Toomgis began to sing the doots and dos of the latently-incestuous anthem, the two began to go on a shopping spree for sustenance that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a wedding planning commercial for the financially destitute.

Gritty was completely outside his comfort zone, and yet he was absolutely and completely comfortable with what was going on. He had forgotten what it was like to just live, to embrace every moment as it comes and not fixate on what you had or what you could do, but rather on what you were doing and enjoying it for exactly what it is. A passion began to well up inside of him, a mixture of feelings that amounted to a cross between a kid in a candy shop and the first date with a new lover who hit all the right buttons. 

Gritty was so entranced that he completely forgot about any of his super-awesome powers that would have made shopping more convenient and just did it the old fashioned way. There was something to be said about going naturalist, and he made a mental note to see if he could get away with being one of those mascots that doesn’t wear pants in the future. If Peepoodo could do it, why not himself? If regular shopping could be this exhilarating, imagine what a pantsless walk in the park or skate on the ice could feel like!

Toomgis barely said anything as they grabbed all the items for their eating adventure that night. He didn’t need to say anything. There was a synchronicity between them. They would arrive at the candy bar section, and both simultaneously reached for the same items, like a Midnight MilkyWay or a King-Sized Kitkat. They giggled with each other on multiple occasions as the opportunities to touch one another’s non-sexual appendages kept happening, and their shopping cart filled up slowly over the next two hours. There was no need to rush. Everything could be slow; easy; right.

After getting enough food brands to film a sequel to Foodfight, they went to the hot food section and crafted their own respective specialty sandwiches. Toomgis made a Morning Gloryhole, which was a hamburger with a hole in the top bun and patty where a hot dog could be inserted. He added caramelized onions, pine nuts, and black pepper before squirting a copious amount of spicy mayo over the meat concoction, topping it off with a fried egg. Gritty made Puckakke Tsunami, which was eight hot dogs arranged in two layers between three hamburger buns. The buns were made deliberately moist with a yogurt sauce so that every bite had a deluge of white tastegasm squeeze out. He added a single olive to the top and dusted it with Dorito crumbs. Just hearing the liquid smushing noise as the sandwich was packaged in a leak-free container made Gritty shudder and moan a little bit.

They approached the counter when they had finished getting everything, the sun setting gloriously in the fingerprint-stained window behind the acne-laden teenager working the register. The POS system was apparently broken so the ampm couldn’t accept credit cards. Gritty didn’t have his wallet, and the last money he had was the tip he gave to the boudoir photographer. Instead, Gritty reached into his pants and pulled out season tickets for the Flyers next year. The teenager was ecstatic and said that would be just fine, and offered to walk out to help put the food in the car. Gritty shook his head no and they walked outside. The teen waved goodbye and marveled at his fortune, which unfortunately didn’t last for long as that particular ampm was robbed at gunpoint the next night and the teen suffered a bullet wound that grazed his brain and put him into a coma for two years. Gritty and Toomgis eventually made it up to him but that’s another story for another day.

As they packed up Gritty’s car, Gritty noticed that the parking lot was completely barren besides themselves. This was odd but they didn’t question it. Did Toomgis have a car? Did he fly? Did he teleport? Was he of an equal power to Gritty and they had just not crossed paths until now? Gritty’s mind started to race with possibilities. Maybe Toomgis didn’t exist until recently, but how could that be possible? Did the universe just recently birth him to rebalance the powers of good and evil? Or maybe the universe heard Gritty’s thoughts earlier today and responded by bringing Toomgis into this reality. No, that couldn’t possibly be it. That would be too tropey. It’s not like this is a terrible erotic fanfiction. That would just be ludicrous.

As the car was nearly done being filled with their coming feast, Toomgis just kept smiling, projecting that strong aura of peace and love that had been constant since Gritty first encountered him. Gritty found that his racing thoughts calmed as he kept looking at Toomgis. It was like everything that was wrong that he could think of evaporated when he laid eyes on the walking snack sensation. Gritty had done well to suppress his sexual urges for the last few hours because he was active and distracted, but he knew that the dam could not be held for long, especially once they were alone in the car. He didn’t even know if they would be able to make it back to Gritty’s secret lair beneath the Wells Fargo Center.

The car was now full of their binge rations, and they returned their shopping cart back to where they found it. Gritty was about to get his writing paper from within the car when Toomgis waltzed straight to the passenger seat, sat down, and motioned with a seductive hot dog finger for Gritty to get in the driver seat. Gritty was smitten, and thought to himself would his entrancement by this siren ever cease?! 

Gritty, who’s real name was Rex Albatross Dynamo but nobody knew that except for him, plopped his supple rear on the driver seat, pressed the ignition button on the car, adjusted his mirrors, buckled his seat belt, checked his periphery, made sure Toomgis also had his seat belt on (he did), shifted into reverse, and slowly backed out while thinking about what super hot ultra sexy activities were about to happen. The sexy thoughts didn’t distract his driving, though. He was a good driver, and he honked his horn courteously at a fellow motorist who was pulling into the ampm without his headlights on. Gritty loved horns. They reminded him of hockey.

As they were driving along, Careless Whisper Airhorn Edition came on Gritty’s spotify playlist. Gritty began to feel a warm, meaty caress on his shoulder. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the road for long, because that would be poor driving etiquette. He glanced over at Toomgis and saw all five of of his processed meat fingers planted firmly on his shoulder, Toomgis smiling as warm as a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and raisins in it. A voice suddenly entered Gritty’s head.

I know you can also communicate this way, but I didn’t want to startle you too much back at the store.

Gritty floundered for a moment.

I...I didn’t want to intrude myself back at the store. But I have so many questions.

I know you do. There will always be questions. Even when we have answers, those answers reveal more questions to be asked. There are some times when you can ask the question, and the answer itself doesn’t matter. There is one question right now that I must ask, and I hope it doesn’t spoil the moment. May I touch you? Not like we were at the store. No, I want to touch you in a way that you deserve to be touched by someone who knows what you are. Touch by someone who knows what you do, and what you go through, and what you deserve to feel by the touching.

Smitten. Completely and utterly smitten. Nothing was hotter to gritty than sexual consent. Seriously, sexual consent between informed parties was the hottest fucking thing to Gritty. Sometimes Gritty would stay after the hockey game to make sure people weren’t taking sexual advantage of others who might have had a bit too much to drink, and his eyes would jiggle with delight when two people would look at each other and ask “Is it okay if I make out with you?”. His erections from seeing that sometimes damaged the metal dumpsters he would hide behind during his vigilante watch.

Yes. Very Yes.

Gritty then began to feel that same warm, meaty caress on his right upper thigh, which in Gritty’s opinion was the best upper thigh. Toomgis began reaching up under Gritty’s pant leg, squeezing the hot dog digits and then the cinnamon bun palm beneath the spoort fabric, combing through the tufts of fur. Gritty loved that feeling. He couldn’t hold out for long at this rate.

Thankfully, they were just then pulling into the parking lot of the Wells Fargo Center. Gritty hit the button on the dash next to the seat warmer (he loved toasted buns) that opened the hatch to the secret ramp for his secret base. A section of the parking lot on hydrolic lifters elevated to allow the car entrance. As Gritty pulled the car into the parking spot near the front of his hideout, the parking lot returned to its regular configuration.

Don’t worry, there are plenty of fire exits in case of an emergency. 

Oh, I know. And the way things are going, things are going to become very hot very soon. The hunger. It is eternal. I have known it, as you have, for the infinity before our meeting that I can remember and it never ceases. The hunger is always, or rather, it was. I believe it will be stopping soon.

 

Gritty felt his pants, which were super-duper moist. Only part of that moisture was due to the grease residue from the grooming Toomgis’ meatstrosity appendage left behind. Both Gritty and Toomgis opened their doors and got out. After Gritty stood up, he reached down to the wet spot, rubbed it a bit, and brought it to his lips. Hot dog juice and cinnamon bun frosting went together surprisingly well, and the salty addition of his own groinal machinations rounded the flavor off perfectly. It wasn’t always a pleasure to eat one’s gains, but this recipe would be making it into his next hit semen cookbook.

Gritty opened the his front door and they bother went in, putting the food bags down on the luxurious kitchen counter. After shutting the door and turning on the lights, Gritty turned on his housewide bluetooth speaker system and put on DJ Schmolli playlist. Gritty fucking loved mashups. Together, the two abominations to god and man known as Gritty and Toomgis began unpacking the food.  
Not even a moment after the last item was laid out on the counter did the two commence the devouring. Gritty grabbed his Puckakke Tsunami sandwich, which was still perfectly warm and moist, and bit into it as sultrily as he could manage. A deep, primal groan of pleasure erupted from Gritty’s mouth, so loud and reverberating that his googly-eyes vibrated at exactly 173Hz.

“MMMMMMMMMPHHHHHGGGGGGHHHHOOOOOOOooooOOOOooooooo” Gritty said evocatively.

Toomgis in turn grabbed his Morning Gloryhole and ate nearly the whole thing in one gulp. The juices splattered around sensually within his cavernous mouth, resulting in a bunch coming back out onto his cheese puff beard. The noise Toomgis made quaked the stars and the whole Milky Way galaxy seemed to groan in ecstasy simultaneously.

Gritty’s own sandwich juices had dripped messily onto his own face, and the one thing they didn’t think to get while shopping for food was paper towels. Toomgis and Gritty realized this at the same time, their life rhythms still completely in-tune with each other. The brief respite from the consumering allowed them to again look deep into each others’ eyes. Gritty and Toomgis held another brief consent parlay via their personal telepathy, where they established safety words and fully agreed to voice up when they were beginning to feel uncomfortable and which things would be off limits. It was equivalent to about 17 hours of UN negotiations, but lapsed by faster than you could rate this fanfic if you liked it because that really encourages me to write more.

And then the makeouts began. Well, not quite makeouts. They had their mouths on each others’ mouths, but the action was less a tongular expedition into the stalagmites and stalactites of the mutual cave system formed by the mouth union and more of cleaning the brownie batter bowl with your tongue instead of water and a sponge. Every drop of delicious meat juice or sauce was lapped at as if they were starving. In a sense, they had been starving every moment of their existences up until that night, and they were putting to action their emotional desires by slobbering up every messy morsel. 

Gritty began to grope at Toomgis’ chest area, trying to find where his nipples were. Gritty honestly didn’t even know if Toomgis had nipples, or breasts, or anything else underneath those bags.

Not just yet. I will show you one, but we should not squander the rest of the food. It all looks so good.

And with that, Toomgis squeezed one of his own chest bags of Kettle-Cooked Utz Potato Chips and pulled down the front of the package. Underneath was a nipple which looked like the contents of a melted fun size box of Milk Duds that you probably dropped behind the sofa right in front of the heating vent and it was there all winter but there’s no hair in it so it’s probably still edible, on top of a large slice of pepperoni. Toomgis caressed Gritty’s hand and pulled it towards the Milk-Dud-y mass. As soon as Gritty started to swirl his finger delicately around the caramel hot spot, Toomgis shut his eyes tight and bit his bottom lip.

“Mmmmmmmmm,” Toomgis said. He followed this up with a series of “ohs” that sounded like Morse code from a distressed oceanliner. It got to the point where the lip biting and the ohs were completely in rhythm, making one of the sickest beatboxing drum grooves the world had ever heard.

Toomgis took one last lip bite and accidentally bit off part of his lower lip. It was okay, though, because he is made of food and it would probably grow somehow. Toomgis didn’t notice, or if he did he didn’t mind, and Gritty was too distracted by playing with Toomgis pachinko controls to care.

Suddenly, Toomgis began to grab whatever food he could from the counter and started shoving it in the space between Gritty and Toomgis. Their mouths merged once again to form a nightmare abyss underneath the falling food masses from which no meal could ever escape. Gritty started to help, switching hands on the sugary pepperonipple in order to more effectively grip more food items. They didn’t even bother taking the wrappers off most of the items. But they didn’t care. Neither had, as far as Gritty knew, experienced this before and it felt so friggin’ good. It was almost as if every nerve stimulated by Gritty’s nippleplay on Toomgis he could faintly feel. The more they did it, the more Gritty could sense his own body being stimulated. The licking, the moaning, the consuming, the rubbing, all of it was like a beautiful ballet of excess and gluttony.

Soon enough, all the food they purchase was gone. It felt like hours but it was a mere few minutes. They both took a moment to breathe, Gritty removing his hand from Toomgis. Toomgis reached down and grabbed two more bags from his chest, one containing Nutter Butters and the other Snyders of Hanover Pretzels. He opened them, and started taking the contents by the twos, putting them into their mouths at the same time. Gritty was stunned. These looked from the outside to be just normal snack bags, but the contents tasted exponentially better than their usual variants. The warmth of Toomgis body made the textures more delicate, and there was a faint scent of Toomgis himself all over them. It was almost aphrodisiacal. 

And that was when Gritty removed his pants. Gritty’s primary dongus almost flopped on the ground, drooping down to about 2 inches from the floor but then springing immediately back up to the “ready and able” position. It looked like a bungee jump that turned into a crane arm. Gritty didn’t have prominent testicles, but all five were there, forming a kind-of smiley face on the underside of his massive main member. There was sparse hair on it, except on the top where it had a large mass that looked like a cheap toupee for a Caucasian mid-forties male at the lower end of the middle class, having a mid-life crisis and trying to cover up early onset baldness. It was a middling of mids, but it made Gritty’s penis look dignified, like even if it looked fake he took pride enough in his appearance to give a bad toupee a shot.

Toomgis began to grip Gritty’s +3 Rod of Wielding with his prelubricated hands, letting Gritty continue the mutual consumption of the Toomgis body food bags. As the bags were emptied one by one, Gritty found that under each one was a nipple. It seemed that, over time, Toomgis’ whole body was just a bunch of nipplebags. All of them looked the same, but he could scarcely bring his attention away from the attention Toomgis was giving to his Sidewinder joystick.

The hot dog fingers did some incredible work. Gritty regretted never allowing himself to experiment with meat tubes before now, and made a mental note to try it again with other kinds of tubular carnivore fare in the future. Every stroke felt incredible, the contours of the hot dogs hitting every curve and dip on Gritty’s Laserpointer of Pleasure. As most of the bags were now consumed, Toomgis’ vast array of nipples were exposed. Gritty started flicking, pinching, poking, and turning all of them like a panicking mission controller at NASA. The moans elicited from Toomgis were almost musical, with different nipples making different pitches and timbres. He began composing a concerto, one which he ended up taking to Carnegie Hall in the years to follow. It was bliss of a kind Toomgis had yet to know.

I hope you can last, my dear Sir Gritty.

I can go multiple times per second with zero refractory period.

Good. Good. Then…

Toomgis pushed Gritty’s hands away as he descended onto the fluffy mascot’s roll of Chocolate Necco Wafers. Instantly, Gritty was pushed to orgasm. It came so fast and furious that Gritty could swear he hear Vin Diesel gruffing out a few lines of poorly written exposition amongst the deluge of pleasure spunk that ejected into Toomgis’ slathered maw. It was like sticking your dick in a Hot Pocket that was neither too cool or too hot. It felt like warm, smothered cheese and sauce with wilted spinach and some other toppings. So much love juice came out that Toomgis began to cry, but they weren’t tears. Some of the ejaculate made its way up Toomgis’ nasal passages and into the tear ducts, making Toomgis weep a waterfall of oozing white cheddar.

After a couple of extra thrusts, Toomgis removed the still throbbing, still erect appendage. He then proceeded to make out with Gritty, exemplifying the “eat your gains” lifestyle. Sharing is caring, after all. It tasted exactly how Gritty thought it would: all Hot Pocket-y, but tinged with Toomgis’ flavors as well. He was just so friggin’ tasty.

Is there any fantasy of yours that you would like to fulfill? I have very few, if any, inhibitions.

Gritty knew exactly what he wanted. Stepping out of his pants which were still on the ground, he took Toomgis’ hand as they walked to what looked like an open elevator two rooms over. Gritty and Toomgis both stepped on the platform, after which Gritty smashed the button labeled “HALF TIME”. Abruptly, the elevator started to rise as the ceiling above them parted way. Some particles of ice floated down as the soulmates began to ascend. As it had so often that evening, time seemed to freeze during the elevation towards the ice rink of the Wells Fargo Center. No words were needed, even though there was enough time there to write a review for a well-written fanfiction in order to let the author know what you thought, and provide feedback and criticism without flaming so that they can improve for future stories.

Once they were in the center of the rink, the ice closed around them again, and they were now at the focal point of a completely empty stadium. Exhibitionism was the most secret of desires for Gritty, since he’s a well-known mascot worldwide. He would never be able to do anything sexual in public without being noticed. He was just too tall! Toomgis motioned for Gritty to lay down on the ice, which didn’t affect either of them at all because they were awesome. Toomgis sucked on Gritty’s penis a few more times, not to get it harder because it was still hard enough to hold up a boat’s sail. No, he wanted to get it lubricated again.

Toomgis then turned around and removed the remainder of the bags from his rear end. This time, instead of nipples, it looked like a very large cocktail weenie breading. Specifically, it was like a large cocktail weenie except there was no weenie and the crust on the outside had compressed into a sphincter. 

You can’t spell cocktail weenie without cock. Or weenie. So put your weeniecock in my tail.

Toomgis knew it didn’t quite roll off the tongue but Gritty still thought it sounded supremely sexy.

Toomgis started to squat down on Gritty, forcing the divining stick into his crusty innards. As Gritty began to thrust, he began to feel the orifice get moist. The first few thrusts caused a lot of croissant dust to go everywhere, but before long a yellow-brown liquid began to congeal around the edges of Toomgis’ anal accretion disc. It smelled like dijon mustard, which combined with all of the other smells going on made the area around the two smell like a deli with a candy rack that was on fire. Toomgis began to moan again, while Gritty was just giving him the silent treatment. He knew people could come in here at any time, and part of the fantasy was being quiet to keep suspicions low. Maintenance folks could be coming to service the rink, or the lights. The cleaning crew might still have vomit left to sawdust up after the latest game. This was the hottest fantasy, and Gritty was in bliss.

Gary Busey was walking through the empty Wells Fargo Center upper deck for no apparent reason when he saw a seven-foot tall furry orange monstrosity laying down on the ice with it’s penis out giving anal sex to another person that looked to be made of popped chip bags and pepperoni milk duds. Gary Busey approved, wandering off to find a sandwich or something since seeing that had made him hungry.

Gritty and Toomgis went on like that for a while, eventually pumping out a few gallons of the mustard onto the ice which caused a zamboni to malfunction before the next hockey game after its tires became locked once it drove through the mustard pond. Gritty finally started making sounds of life and humped so hard he made himself dizzy. This was what he needed. This was everything he was missing in life. The universe had heard his call, and Toomgis was the answer. 

Gritty began playing with his own nipples with one hand and started smacking Toomgis’ ass with the other. With each smack, more and more of the breading and nipples started to fly off. Gritty could not contain his passion though, as with each smack Toomgis moaned more and more, and squatted down on Gritty’s dick harder and harder. Gritty had to focus on remembering to breathe it felt so fucking good. The ground around him soon was littered with Toomgis bits, looking like the great caramel factory explosion of 1937 which injured and maimed at least 124 child workers.

Toomgis suddenly did a tuck-and-roll maneuver. Gritty could still thrust inside Toomgis’ ass, but Toomgis began fingering Gritty’s butthole, trying valiantly to live the dream of making Limp Bizkit’s “Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water” a reality. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Gritty lost it, and mount vesuvieus erupted. The train entered the tunnel. The rocket launched into space. Gritty came again, and the universe shifted.

When Toomgis pulled his fingers out of Gritty’s butt, it looked like he had lost a few. Gritty could actually still feel the hot dog fingers wiggling around inside him. He looked at Toomgis and the look that Toomgis gave him confirmed it: they weren’t done yet tonight. The fingler-wigglers in his anal cavity were proof of that.

They made their way back down to Gritty’s place and finally into the bedroom, past the food carnage that had happened earlier in the evening. Gritty’s mattress had a huge comforter that had his face on it, which they removed because dry cleaning a comforter is just such a huge pain, dude. As they got on the bed, they began to cuddle and spoon. Toomgis looked a whole lot different from when they first met. He looked like he had lost more than half his body mass with the bits knocked off or otherwise consumed. As they made out again, things finally just felt right in Gritty’s life.

You wanted to be inside me, but now, I want to be inside you.

Gritty sat up and started to turn over to reveal his backside, but Toomgis put a hand on his shoulder.

No. Not that way.

Toomgis put the remaining hot dog fingers from his left hand on Gritty’s lips and ever so delicately thrust them in. They were as delicious as anything else Gritty had eaten that evening, even with the little bits of poo still on them from his own butt. Then Toomgis took Gritty’s chin in his right hand and shut his mouth over the fingers. Toomgis moaned in pleasure even more than before, this time for a solid two minutes and fourteen seconds exactly. That gave plenty of time for Gritty to freak out, then think, then freak out again.

Trust me. This is what I want.

Gritty got instantly erect again, chewing loudly on the meat miracles now swimming around in his mouth. They were obscenely good. Gritty couldn’t help himself. He began shoving Toomgis’ entire hand inside his mouth, eating the bun just as loudly. The chewing and the moaning together sounded like an entire camp full of intermittent fasters going to lunch on sloppy joes. Soon, Gritty had eaten Toomgis’ entire arm.

Gritty began to cry. He wanted to make Toomgis just as happy as he had made him. But if Toomgis was gone forever, then Gritty would never be happy again. He remembered what Toomgis said about questions and answers, and answered himself. He wanted to value Toomgis’ happiness over his own, because Gritty could live his entire life still overall happier for having known him if only for the briefest of moments before the inevitable heat death of the universe trillions of years from now, where Gritty would still likely live on. Maybe the memory of Toomgis would heat up the universe enough that, in its death throes, it could be reborn again and another Toomgis could come along. The universe being as full of infinite possibilities as it is, maybe it could happen.

Gritty ate Toomgis other arm, cumming multiple times as the devouring continued. Gritty’s other two supplemental penises even started to get in on the action, forming a fountain of squirting splooge that began to moisten any parts of the bed that had yet to me moistened. Toomgis didn’t say anything as this went on. He just moaned and smiled, as Gritty consumed him. As Gritty worked his way up the body now, ending with Toomgis’ head, Toomgis grinned the widest yet and said “I love you, Gritty. I will always be with you.”

Then Gritty ate Toomgis head and began searching for the Pepto Bismol before going to take a shower. He was full of food and lots of stuff that wasn’t food, but he was empty on semen and also on energy. He felt lonely again. Not as lonely as before but still lonely. He cleaned himself up and crawled into bed to cry himself to sleep.

Gritty had lots of weird, vivid dreams that night. He felt his insides shifting and thought he might have shat the bed. When he got up, to his complete surprise, he felt hungry again. As he roused himself from the bed, he walked into the kitchen only to find Toomgis there in a french maid outfit cooking bacon and eggs.

You didn’t think I was gone forever, did you? We still have so much to do. So much to see.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Paper towels are scientifically proven to be more monetarily efficient than napkins, which is why millennials have killed them. 
> 
> Authors Note: Seriously, I hope you’re fucking happy. I feel so dirty. Or you could say, I feel so...gritty.


End file.
